Broken Stitches
by x-butterflykisses-x
Summary: "The gaze that Dean suddenly fixed his brother with was so heart crushingly intense that Sam had an overwhelming urge to palm his forehead." The year is 1995, Sam and Dean share a moment whilst the younger Winchester stitches up his bloodied brother - punching walls will do that to a guy. And all over a girl. Sam just wants to roll his eyes.


_"One question: do you need...someone or do you need me?...Forget it, I don't really care."_ – Lloyd Dobler, Say Anything

* * *

**1995 **

The motel room was another typical seedy dive. The lurid pattern mirrored on the carpet and walls was in a particularly violent shade of puce. The air conditioning rattled, the smell of mold seemed to permanently hang about the bathroom and the TV only picked up 3 channels. Not that Sam was complaining, the school they were currently attending was one of the better ones. Maybe it boiled down to the fact that the coleslaw seemed to vaguely resemble shredded cabbage and mayonnaise, a vast improvement on what was normally served to America's student body. Maybe it was because they'd been in Richmond the longest Sam could ever remember. Or maybe it was because the teachers at the school actually seemed to give a crap.

"What happened to you?" Sam asked, his eyebrow arching as he took in his older brother's disheveled form.

"Stacey Andrews."

"You punched Stacey Andrews in the face?" Sam questioned, aghast. Promptly dropping his brother's hand he had been ministering over just moments before.

"No I did not punch Stacey Andrews in the face. Jesus Sammy – do you actually think I'd hit a girl?"

"No." Sam replied a little too quickly. "Well, whatever you hit, you've torn your stitches."

"The wall…"

"The wall?"

"It was drywall Sam."

"So you left a hole in it too?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Can you stitch it back up?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded before quickly scrambling to his feet and retrieving a first aid kit from across the room. Pulling out the requisite iodine, needle and surgical thread Sam looked at the ugly tear across Dean's knuckles, sighing as began to work on his brother's hand.

"Why'd Stacey Andrews make you punch through some plasterboard?" Sam muttered, just as he'd finished cleaning the wound, the dried blood that was stuck to Dean's hand quickly wiped away.

"She…" Dean started, his green eyes darting about the room eager not to make contact with his brother's.

"She what?" Sam prompted patiently, when it came to all things emotional it was like pulling teeth when attempting to extract some sort of confession from Dean. The older boy seemed to take immense pride in how hard the interrogator had to work before they were given a sliver of information. Sam had spent three hours plying Dean for facts before his older brother conceded and admitted that he thought Stacey was 'okay'. And when it came Dean Winchester, that was pretty much code for wanting to marry the girl. But even at the tender age of 16 Dean was adamant he wasn't the marrying kind. Sam had worked hard not to roll his eyes when his brother had first shared this thought with him. Dean might have stolen several kisses from several girls, but he was hardly at the love them and leave them stage. Yet.

"She…"

Sam rolled his eyes. Whilst Dean had been blessed with exceptionally good looks and had seemingly since birth, been able to charm the majority of women with the smattering of freckles that graced his cheekbones, Dean was not in touch with his emotions. But then again, what 16-year-old boy was? Sam however was blessed with the ability to pinpoint the exact thought that was troubling him and then angst over it. Dean, well Dean punched holes in walls. And as Dean never tired of telling Sammy, the older Winchester was more of a take action kind of guy.

"Seriously Dean, did she break your heart or something?"

The gaze that Dean suddenly fixed his brother with was so heart crushingly intense that Sam had an overwhelming urge to palm his forehead. Dean blinked, his green eyes filling with what looked suspiciously like tears, sniffing the older boy looked up at the bright strobe lighting, willing for the salty droplets not to fall.

"She didn't break my heart Sammy." Dean barked out somewhat roughly, even at 16 the boy's voice had some gravel to it.

"Then?" Sam pried as he finished wrapping a dressing over Dean's hand.

"It wasn't so much Stacey… Well she decided to go to the dance with Ryan Fletcher but that's not why I punched the wall…" Dean quickly rushed out, his cheeks reddening as noticed the wolfish grin that now graced his brother's features.

"Oh, so you didn't get jealous and punch a wall?" Sam crowed, his warm eyes alight with humour.

"No." Dean veritably growled as he glowered at his younger brother.

"Sure."

"Ryan was being a dick."

"You could have punched Ryan in the face." Sam offered, rocking back on his haunches.

"Lets be clear Sam, I could have destroyed Ryan. But then I'd be kicked out of school and Dad would kick my ass."

"What was he saying?"

"Oh you know, the usual R rated shit." Dean scratched the back of his head, wincing as he caught his hand on the table.

"And you're not telling me what exactly?"

"Two words Sammy – parental guidance."

Sam huffed, sending a jab towards Dean that was neatly blocked by his older brother. "Fine. Don't tell me. I can guess. Why didn't you ask Stacey to the dance?"

"Urgh." Dean shook his head. "She knew how I felt."

"She did, did she? So you told her then?" Sam asked shrewdly, reaching for a packet of crisps on the table and ripping it open.

"Well, I kissed her didn't I?"

"Girls like you to tell them anyway." Sam replied quickly, pulling the packet of crisps away from his brother. "Get your own."

"And you're experience with women is so great, is it?"

"I read stuff…"

"Cosmo?" Dean shot back somewhat mockingly.

"Whatever. It's all about letting them know how you feel."

"I kissed her!" Dean exclaimed.

"Apparently it's not the same thing."

"What do they want, John Cusack and a boom box?"

"Grand gestures might be the way to do it," Sam shrugged. "Then what do I know? I'm twelve."

"Yeah," Dean nodded fiercely as if coming to his senses. "Exactly, you're twelve."

Grabbing his leather jacket from the back of his chair he headed towards the door.

"Where you going?"

"The dance."

* * *

Dean pulled at his collar. Stacey was standing against the wall – Ryan was nowhere to be seen (locked in the boys toilet) and Boyz II Men was playing. It was the closest he was going to get to a grand gesture.

"Stacey?" He questioned softly, deploying just the right amount of gravel.

"Dean…"

"Do you wanna dance?"

The smile that lit up Stacey's face went someway to alleviating the pain in his hand.

"I thought you didn't want to go with me…"

"I just didn't know how to tell you," Dean answered as his hand gently took Stacey's.

The blonde girl smiled before she reached up and placed a soft kiss against Dean's cheek.

Maybe Sam did have a point after all.

* * *

**A/N: **Just a little something that popped into my head, from when Dean and Sam had a more lighthearted, more straightforward relationship.

Please review and let me know what you think!


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